


The Rogers Rumour

by orphan_account



Series: Stucky AUs [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Because he wants to live in nyc but he likes his va in dc more, Bucky just lives in brooklyn but visits sam a lot, Captain America Steve, Fame, Idk it doesn't really matter i just made a mistake halfway through and this is how I've fixed ot, M/M, Modern Bucky, One Shot, Sam lives in brooklyn but has a house in dc because he spends the weekend there at that VA, idk man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:07:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6709840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's more to Steve Rogers than Captain America. Unfortunately,  only Bucky seems to get that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rogers Rumour

 

 

The first time Bucky meets Steve is at the VA.

 

He’s down for the weekend, like he quite often is, because it’s what Sam does and Bucky likes spending time with Sam.

 

It’s a normal group session, Bucky hasn't said anything, but he did last week so it’s okay. He wants to talk to Sam afterwards, Bucky’s doing this thing where he initiates at least one conversation a day and he hasn't had a chance yet today. Joanna’s talking- something about driving and plastic bags and he’s got his hand shoved in the pocket of his leather jacket when Steve walks in. Bucky does a double take, because yeah, that’s Captain America.

 

Sam glances at where he’s leaning against a post in the doorway but isn’t fazed, so Bucky follows his lead and doesn’t acknowledge that _Captain America_ has joined his therapy group.

 

(It’s pretty cool, though.)

 

Sam finishes up the group session shortly after that, the only thing Bucky really picking up on being the phrase “man-purse.” He snorts a laugh to himself and deliberately takes his time standing up and picking up his bag so the hall’s empty by the time he reaches Sam. Except when he leaves the room, he doesn’t find Sam sorting out pamphlets by himself, he finds Sam talking to Captain fucking America about being happy. Bucky makes to drop back into the room to give them some privacy, but Sam catches his eye and nods him into the conversation.

 

“Barnes.” Sam says, and Bucky gives him a small smile. So much for initiating conversation. “You met Steve?”

 

And no, Bucky has certainly not met Steve Rogers before.

 

“Bucky Barnes.” He offers, holding his hand out for Captain America to shake. He mentally congratulates himself for finding a conversation to start as Captain America shakes it.

 

“Steve Rogers.” He replies, eyes flitting around nervously. He looks less like the PosterBoy SuperSoldier now, and Bucky decides not to think of him as Captain America out of the suit.

 

“Good to meet you, Steve.” Bucky says instead, shoving his hand back into his pocket.

 

“So, what’s up?” Sam asks, turning to Bucky. Steve stands there awkwardly, as if he’s not quite sure if he should leave or not. Sam’s a good guy, wouldn’t have included Bucky in the conversation if he didn’t think Steve was ready, so Bucky doesn’t feel guilty about cutting Steve off.  But Steve’s standing there, rocking on his heels and Bucky doesn’t want to exclude the guy.

 

“Thinking about prosthetics.” Bucky says. It’s not a lie, either. It’s a big decision, despite not being permanent or even necessarily long-term. He knows he can’t replace his arm (he’s not even sure he wants to) but he doesn’t like the empty sleeve at his side.

 

Sam has a prosthetic; a simple plastic leg from the knee down. It’s his left leg, and Bucky likes to joke about what they “left behind”. Sam always rolls his eyes and groans, but he smiles too so Bucky doesn’t think he minds.

 

“Oh yeah?” Sam says, prompting Bucky on.

 

“Yeah. But I’m not sure it won’t just emphasise the fact that my arm’s gone, you know?” Bucky moves his right arm to his left sleeve, fiddling with the safety pin.

 

“I guess that’s a possibility.” Sam agrees with a nod. “I need mine to walk, but you don’t get prosthetic arms with fully functional fingers.”

 

“Stark could do it.” Steve says, and his cheeks burn bright red when Bucky and Sam turn to look at him. “I just mean- he made the suit. And robots and all sorts of machinery. I bet he could make a high-tech prosthetic.”

A red and gold robot hand with laser blasters comes to mind and Bucky just blinks at Steve, unsure what to say.

 

“Are you for real?” Sam says, saving Bucky from having to say anything.

 

“I mean, I could always ask?” Steve shrugs, his shoulders folding over and making him look more like the photos Bucky’s seen in the Smithsonian of Steve before the serum than the giant superhero in front of him.

 

“Man, you're the best.” Sam says with a grin, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “I knew befriending an Avenger would have its perks.”

 

“Thanks, Steve. That would be amazing.” Bucky says, and as far as celebrity encounters go, that wasn't too bad.

 

* * *

 

The second time Bucky bumps into Steve, it's literal. He's getting off the subway and trips on his shoelace. It's even worse than it sounds though, because while he's finally managed the art of tying shoelaces with only one hand, it's still a bitch to do.

 

So Bucky falls, arm flailing, right into Steve’s arms.

 

“You okay?” Steve asks, his arms supporting Bucky but also trapping him and preventing him from stepping away.

 

“Shoelaces.” Bucky says in way of explanation. Steve finally loosens his grip and Bucky takes a step back from the awkward embrace. Steve follows his eyes and looks at Bucky’s feet.

 

“Oh. Do you need a hand?” Steve asks uncomfortably, then cringes at his words. “Help. Do you need help. I can tie them for-”

 

“It’s fine.” Bucky interrupts with a laugh, squatting down. “I can tie them. Look.” Steve watches as Bucky ties his shoelaces with the one hand.

 

“That’s actually pretty impressive.” Steve says once he’s recovered from his fatal blushing. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to do that.”

 

“Lucky you don’t have to, right?” Bucky says, rising to pat Steve’s left arm. Steve shifts uncomfortably, and as much as Bucky likes watching people squirm around him and his arm, he’s starting to feel a little bit bad.

 

“It’s fine, Steve. If I can’t laugh about it, what can I laugh about, right?” He says, knocking shoulders with Steve.

 

“I guess so.” Steve says, then glances at his watch. Bucky's about to say something about only old people wearing watches when he remembers that Steve _is_ old. Very old. Bucky keeps his mouth shut. (He'll bring it up if it happens again, though.)

 

“I actually have to keep going.” Steve says, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I'll see you ‘round.”

 

“Have fun!” Bucky calls after him, waving but not bothering to stick around to watch him go.

 

Bucky's _cool_.

 

* * *

 

There's a stack of gossip rags on the coffee table in the reception of the Brooklyn Campus VA. They're Bucky's guilty pleasure- checking the daily horoscopes.

 

The magazine on the top of the pile today, however, has Bucky on it. He doesn't realise it's him at first, because Steve's taking up most of the photo.

 

But no, that's definitely Bucky's arm around Steve's waist. Interest piqued, Bucky flicks to the article to see speculation of their relationship.

 

**_Captain America or Captain Ameriqueer? The nation's favourite Supersoldier spotted intimately conversing with a man. Does Cap have a secret?_ **

 

**_“As soon as [Mystery Man] saw Captain Rogers, he flung himself into the Captain's arms. I thought he was just a fan, but the way the Captain held onto him, it was clear this wasn't their first meeting.” Janice Lee, spectator present at the scene, reports. “I think it's safe to assume a beautiful romance between these two, and hopefully a coming out from the great Captain Rogers.”_ **

 

Bucky snorts and looks around the room to show someone, but it's empty. Instead, he pulls out his phone and sends a snapchat to Sam.

 

* * *

 

The third time Bucky sees Steve they're at Starbucks. Steve has sunglasses on and a cap pulled low but they do nothing to hide the width of his shoulders and he's not fooling anyone.

 

“Hey, babe.” Bucky grins, knocking Steve's shoulder with his own as he lines up behind him.

 

“What?” Steve frowns, looking up from his phone.

 

“Haven't you heard? We're the latest celebrity couple.” Bucky tells him. Steve's from the forties and is portrayed as an old fashioned soldier with traditional values, but Sam likes the guy, and from what Bucky can tell he grew up in a gay neighbourhood, so Bucky's not too wary.

 

“Why do people think we're dating? We don't know each other.” Steve points out, pocketing his phone and turning to Bucky. Bucky just shrugs.

 

“People love you and they love gossip. Why not combine the two?”

 

“Because it's not true?” Steve grumbles. He's next in line and orders something with too many shots and syrups for Bucky to keep up with.

 

“And I thought my caramel macchiato was bad.” Bucky snorts once Steve gets it all out.

 

“One caramel macchiato too, please.” Steve adds, grinning at the barista. “It's expensive,  but Tony's paying so I figure I might as well.”

 

“If anyone here has any say in online gossip, these rumours will only grow.” Bucky warns, moving with Steve to wait for the coffee. Steve grins a big shit-eating grin at Bucky.

 

“I really don't care.” He says, and Bucky's starting to get the hang of this.

 

This is Steve Rogers, the spitfire war vet who cares a lot but also couldn't care less. Polar opposite from Captain America, the symbol of Godlike hope and freedom, yet so complementary. Bucky laughs.

 

“Coffee for Steve Rogers?” The barista calls, doing a double take when Steve reaches over for the cups. She clearly wasn't expecting the actual Steve Rogers. Probably gets it the whole time with kids and their lame jokes.

 

(As if 13 year old Bucky never did it.)

 

“Here, doll.” Steve drawls, handing Bucky his drink.

 

“People will talk.” Bucky mutters, taking it from Steve with a small smile.

 

“Let ‘em talk.” Steve snorts.

 

* * *

 

Bucky can’t believe he agreed to be awake this early. It’s still dark, that’s how early it is.

 

“I hate you.” He groans to Sam. He’d say more but he’s half asleep and running.

 

“You could’ve said no.” Sam points out, not even slowing down the slightest.

 

“Yeah, but you would’ve guilted me with those eyes.” Bucky whines. He’s not struggling to keep pace and the early morning air is actually really nice, but still. It’s half past five in the goddamn morning. He should be asleep in Brooklyn, not awake in DC. “Plus, you woke me up with your loud stumbling.”

 

“Must suck to be you.” Sam teases, changing the pace to pull ahead slightly. “Getting beat by a guy with one leg.”

 

“One leg my ass. That robot leg from Fucking Iron Man could even outrun Captain America.” Bucky spits, but he’s laughing now, back in line with Sam.

 

“Aw, don’t hate the leg, man. You’re just jealous.” Sam grins.

 

“Damn straight I’m jealous. I want a robot arm. Imagine how hard I could punch you!” Bucky says, reaching over to swat at Sam.

 

“You’re an ass.”

 

“You want my ass.”

 

“God, why did I even invite you?” Sam mutters. Bucky laughs.

 

* * *

 

 

“You better be making me the best breakfast ever.” Bucky says, following Sam into his house. “I want bacon and eggs and toast and coffee and- Hey! Don’t drink the juice straight out of the carton! What about me?”

 

“What about you?” Sam snorts, but puts down the juice when there’s a knock at the door.

 

“Who’s that?” Bucky asks, craning his neck to look over at the door. “We both know I’m your only friend.”

 

“I have friends!” Sam huffs defensively. “Like… Steve Rogers. I’m friends with Captain America.”

 

“Yeah, and I’m dating him.”

 

“You and your gossip rags…” Sam sighs, and pulls up the blind. Bucky laughs in surprise, because yeah, it actually is Captain America.

 

“Hey man.” Sam says slowly, looking from Steve to the woman next to him.

 

“I’m sorry about this. We need a place to lay low.”  Steve says.

 

“Everyone we know is trying to kill us.” The woman adds. Bucky doesn’t recognise her, but he knows the Avengers and he’s willing to bet that’s the Black Widow.

 

Sam hesitates a moment, glancing back at Bucky. Bucky shrugs, faking indifference. He wants Sam to invite them in. They’re _superheroes_ , damn it.

 

“Not everyone.” Sam finally says, and the two Avengers follow him inside.

 

“Hey, Bucky.” Steve says as he passes through the kitchen. The Black Widow doesn’t say anything but the corners of her mouth tilt up in the briefest smile. Bucky nods at them.

 

“You should start up a superhero inn. B&B.” Bucky tells Sam when he comes back into the kitchen.

 

“Shuddup.” Sam snorts, cracking eggs into the pan.

 

 

So Bucky’s sitting around his friend’s kitchen table at 7 in the morning with a supersoldier and a Russian spy, and it feels like a joke but no one’s laughing. Steve and Black Widow are talking about some fucked-up mission, and Sam’s following it but Bucky’s not. It’s not just that he’s star-struck, but he doesn’t really want to get too involved with this shit. He’s been home for less than a year, he deserves some slack.

 

Bucky’s pulled out of his head when Sam slaps a folder down on the table.

 

“Call it a resume.” He says, folding his arms. Black Widow picks it up and flips through it. She looks impressed (or at least Bucky assumes that’s what she’d look like if she were impressed) and Bucky is so proud of Sam for impressing not one, but two Avengers.

 

“I can’t ask you to do this.” Steve says uncertainly, but even Bucky can tell he wants to take Sam up on the offer. “You got out for a good reason, you’re back on your feet.”

 

“No he’s not, the other one’s in India.” Bucky snorts into his coffee. That startles a laugh out of Black Widow, and forget Sam, _Bucky’s_ the newest Civilian Avenger Impressor.

 

“Dude, Captain America needs my help. There’s no better reason to get back in.” Sam says, hitting Bucky over the head.

 

“Where can we get our hands on one of these things?” Steve asks, holding up Sam’s folder.

 

“The last one is at Forte Meade. Behind three guarded gates and a twelve inch steel wall.”

 

Black Widow shrugs and Steve nods.

 

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

 

“Superheroes.” Bucky sighs, stacking up their plates and clearing the table. “I’ll just be your lowly housewife, Sam.”

 

“Hey, I thought you were Steve’s.” The Black Widow teases, and wow, Bucky still doesn’t know her name.

 

“Oh God, not that again.” Steve groans

 

“Suck it up, Rogers. There's a beautiful romance between us.” Bucky grins, filling the sink.

 

“Yeah.” Steve says sarcastically.  “Unfortunately for them, I don't plan on coming out any time soon.”

 

* * *

 

Steve comes out a week later. Their super secret spy mission landed them in New York, sorting through S.H.I.E.L.D crap and other shit Bucky shouldn't (and hardly does) know about.

 

Sam's still with him, holed up in the goddamn Avengers Tower, so Bucky's spending a lot of time in his apartment building. He's used to spending as much time wandering around or at Sam's in DC, or at the VA, trying to occupy his mind, that he realises he doesn't know anyone in his building. There's Clint, his landlord (and Bucky suspects there's more to him than meets the eye, but doesn't mention it because he's a damn good person) but asides from him, Bucky has  only seen a couple of people in passing.

 

So he's in his depressingly bare apartment with the tv on, half paying attention and half doing the daily crossword when he hears Steve's voice.

 

There are reporters swarming the Avengers Tower and Steve's caught in the middle of them all, looking confused and vaguely irritated while someone shoves a magazine at him. It's the same rag from the VA and Bucky leans forwards in his seat to get a better look.

 

“Tell us about the man in this photo!” Someone screams, and Steve's eyebrows knit together.

 

“What, Bucky? I don't know!” He replies, running a hand through his short blond hair.

 

“Anything, the first thing that comes to mind.” The same voice from before presses and Steve sighs.

 

“He can tie his shoelaces with one hand?” It's actually quite a funny thing for him to say because you can't tell from the pictures that Bucky’s only got one arm, and it's all Steve knows about him.

 

“Captain Rogers,” another voice cuts in. The camera doesn't show him but judging by the voice Bucky guesses he's an old white guy. “How degrading is it to wake up and realise these young people think you're gay?”

 

“I'm not gay.” Steve says instantly, and Bucky feels the grin slip off his face because Steve's sounding _defensive._  “I'm bisexual, and frankly that's no one's business but my own and my partner's. And no, it's not degrading in the slightest”  

 

The screen shows Steve's retreating figure for a couple of seconds before it cuts back to the reporter but Bucky's laughing too much to bother listening because if Bucky liked the guy as a teen he sure as hell loves him now.

 

* * *

 

Bucky gets one of the last window seats available on the bus, an empty seat next to him more than welcome. It's rush hour, though, so he knows it's not going to last. He has his headphones in despite his dead iPod because he wants to avoid human interaction for as long as possible.

 

The vacant seat fills up three stops later and Bucky doesn't even realise it's Steve for two more stops after that.

 

“Hey, Bucky. How’ve you been?” He asks, and Bucky rips out his silent earbuds.

 

“Steve.” He says, because for some stupid reason his dumbass mind can't come up with something better to day.

 

“Whatcha listening to?” Steve tries again, and this time Bucky answers properly.

 

“Listen for yourself.” Bucky says, offering a headphone out to Steve. Steve takes it and frowns when he undoubtedly hears nothing.

 

“IPod died.” Bucky grins, and Steve laughs but doesn't give it back. The sit in silence for a moment, Bucky's eyes skipping over the shops and people they pass.

 

“Dog!” Bucky says when they stop at a traffic light. He goes to elbow Steve to get his attention, but Steve's on his left and that's right, Bucky doesn't have a left arm.

 

“Oh.” He says, looking at the empty space. He’s pretty well adjusted, and despite missing an entire limb Bucky’s pretty okay with it all. But sometimes, out of the blue, shit like this happens. Steve follows his gaze and the bus kicks back into motion, leaving the dog behind.

 

“How'd it happen?” Steve asks in a quiet voice, and it sounds more like an offering than a question.

 

“IED.” Bucky says, leaving it at that because he really doesn't want to get into semantics- not on a crowded bus and still 15 minutes away from his stop.

 

“What kind of dog was it?” Steve's change of subject isn't subtle but it is appreciated.

 

“Big.” Bucky answers with a shrug. “Super cute. Probably part Alsatian. His tongue was hanging out. The type I think I'd get if I got a dog.”

 

“Hmm. I think if I got a dog I'd get a Shih Tzu. Maybe a Pomeranian.”

 

Bucky doesn't mean to laugh but the image of Actual Tank Steve Rogers with a tiny fluffy white dog is surprising enough to startle a laugh out of him. Steve laughs too, and Bucky relishes in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners and his head tilts into his chest. Bucky's blue headphone is still hanging from his ear.

 

“I'm kidding.” Steve clarifies when he finally catches his breath. “I mean, all dogs are good dogs, right? But I think I'd accidentally step on it when I'm half asleep.”

 

“Mm.” Bucky agrees. “I'm lethal before my coffee. I don't think I actually count as a real person before my second cup is at least half finished.”

 

Steve snorts.

 

“So, you thinking about getting a dog then?” He asks. There are only four stops left before Bucky's due to get off and he's kind of upset about it.

 

“I wish. I spend so much of my time wandering around a dog would fit in perfectly. But I’d need to talk to my landlord about it first.” Bucky sighs. He's actually 90% sure Clint owns a dog, but can't be bothered bringing it up. Besides, he doesn't have the patience or energy to train a dog.

 

“I'm actually on my way to see a dog right now.” Steve says casually.

 

“Lucky dog.” Bucky says, and for some reason it makes Steve beam.

 

“Hell yeah, Lucky dog.” He grins. Bucky raises an eyebrow because while he meant it, Steve seems way too excited by the concept.

 

“The dog's called Lucky.” Steve explains after a moment when it becomes increasingly clear Bucky doesn't get it.

 

“Ah, that makes sense.” Bucky says.

 

“What, and a dog being lucky to see me doesn't?” Steve pouts.

 

“Of course not.” Bucky says, as if he wasn't the one to say it in the first place. “This is my stop.”  Bucky stands up and his headphone pops out of Steve's ear and hangs lifelessly between them. Steve leans behind Bucky to look out the window.

 

“Oh. Same.” He leads Bucky off the bus, calling a cheerful thanks to the bus driver. (Yes, _of course_ Bucky thanks the driver every time, he's not an animal. It's just Steve sounds so cheerful Bucky can't help but feel endeared by it.)

 

Steve picks Bucky's spare headphone back up, shoving it in his ear despite the lack of sound coming from it. They have to walk uncomfortably close to keep the buds in, but Bucky can’t honestly say it bothers him.

 

“Where’re you headed?” Bucky asks, kicking a pebble up the path. It skitters into the gutter with a little clink.

 

“Friend lives on Sherwood, he invited me over for dinner. Something to do with the whole complex.” Bucky almost stops, because that sounds like a very Clint thing to do. He knows his building is pretty friendly, have shared dinners on the roof and all seem to know each other (except for Bucky, but that’s the sort of shit he saves for his therapist).

 

“Clint’s building?” Bucky asks. They’re still walking at their original pace, there’s nothing for Steve to pick up on that Bucky’s uncomfortable. Somehow he does anyway.

 

“Yeah… You alright?” Steve asks, brows furrowed with concern, and Bucky almost hates him for caring.

 

“Yeah, ‘m fine. That’s where I live, is all.” He shrugs, careful not to rip the headphone out. They’ve both still got them in, and it’s a bit stupid.

 

“Cool.” Steve says, but he sounds less enthusiastic and more wary. “Are you coming?”

 

“No.” Bucky doesn’t intend for his answer to be so short, it just happens that way. “I was invited, but I just don’t feel up to it.” He clarifies. He doesn’t owe Steve a reason, but the damn superhero must bring out the best in him.

 

“Fair call.” Steve says, and just like the, the topic is dropped. “Wanna see Clint’s dog, though?”

 

And yeah, maybe the rooftop dinner isn’t Bucky’s scene, but Clint’s dog sure is.

 

 

“Bro, where’s the food?” Clint says when Steve knocks on his door with Bucky standing slightly behind him. They don’t have the headphones on anymore, took them off when they got to the stoop. He misses the contact to Steve, not that he’d ever admit it.

 

“What food?” Steve asks, leading Bucky inside. Lucky (or at least, who Bucky assumes is Lucky) comes up to sniff them, his tail wagging excitedly as he recognises Steve.

 

“What do you mean, _‘what food’?_ It’s a potluck! That means you bring food.” Clint fumbles around in his kitchen for a moment and Bucky sits down on the ground, Lucky half sprawled in his lap.

 

“You never said it was potluck!” Steve grumbles, throwing his hands in the air. Clint blinks at him.

 

“Aw, hell.” He mutters, pulling out some cups. “Coffee?”

 

“Clint.” Steve says, and that’s not Steve’s voice, that’s Captain America’s! (Bucky loves that he can tell.) “It’s past 6pm.”

 

“Never too late for coffee, right Lucky?” Clint calls, and Lucky’s head shoots up from Bucky’s lap.

 

“Don't worry ‘bout it, man. I was gonna plan on ordering pizza anyway, we can grab a couple.” The word _pizza_ has Lucky up and at Clint's feet within seconds and Bucky laughs.

 

“What about you, Barnes? You joining us?” Clint meets his eyes with a quiet eagerness and Bucky doesn't want to let him down but he can't deal with a crowd, not tonight.

 

“Nah, I got Dog Cops to catch up on.” Bucky replies, rising to his feet. Clint nods.

 

“Good call, bro. Good call.”

 

Bucky shows himself out with a smile and a wave (and a scratch between the ears for Lucky) and heads back to his own unit for the night.

 

 

It’s a little after ten pm and Bucky’s in bed with his book when Sam texts him. The message says nothing, just contains a link. Bucky clicks it.

 

The thing is, Steve’s pretty damn famous. He’s a national icon, the embodiment of the American Dream, almost a hundred years old and still fighting the good fight. And he just came out as bisexual. And neither confirmed nor denied having a romantic relationship with Bucky.

 

And now they keep bumping into each other and really, it’s not what it looks like.

 

Bucky clicks the link.

 

It leads to a fanpage dedicated to one certain Steven G Rogers. The most recent post is of Steve and Bucky today on the bus. There are three pictures, it’s just as they’re getting off.

 

The first one has Bucky laughing and Steve pouting at him with those big puppy dog eyes. Clearly teasing. Bucky’s bright blue headphones hang from each of their ears to join together between them. Yeah, Bucky can see how people would get the idea.

 

The second photo has them both getting off the bus, and the way Steve’s hand crosses over Bucky’s- not touching, but deceived by the camera- it looks like they’re holding hands.  Bucky laughs to himself.

 

The third photo is once they’re off the bus, through the window. It’s blurrier than the other two because the bus window’s sort of gross, but it’s still clear enough to definitely be Captain America laughing with the Mystery Man, sharing headphones again and walking shoulder-to-shoulder.

 

Priceless.

 

And because Bucky’s a shit and loves attention, he scrolls through the blog. The next picture down is of him and Steve walking into his- Clint’s- building together. This one’s captioned: “ _Cap holding the door open for his bae”_ and it’s got that damn heart-eyed emoji. There’s a comment under that, just the hashtag _#buckybae_

 

He’s startled for a moment, because how the hell do these people know his name? But the next post on the blog is a gifset of Steve coming out, the magazine thrust in his face and him saying _“What, Bucky? I don't know!”_ and _“He can tie his shoelaces with one hand”_.

 

 _I’m famous. This is the best thing ever._ Bucky texts to Sam, grinning to himself, book long forgotten.

 

The next post is a compilation of every time Bucky’s ever seen Steve- minus the one at Sam’s place. There’s one Bucky didn’t know even existed, clearly only taken for Captain America, but later spread because Bucky happens to be in it. It’s after their first meeting at the VA, they’re both headed out the door and you can’t tell from the picture where they’ve been. Bucky sends a silent thanks to whoever because that’s a side of Steve that’s very private and if anyone starts turning up at the VA office to try and spot Steve, Bucky will rain down hell.

 

There are a lot more pictures than Bucky’d realised there could be. Some in New York, some in Washington DC, Lots from the bus today, and the walk from the bus to Bucky’s place. Some from a few weeks ago when they were both at Starbucks (and Steve bought him the drink).

 

Bucky bookmarks the page.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam’s finally at Bucky’s, the first time Bucky’s gotten to see him since the whole HYDRA shit went down in DC.  

 

“So, you’re like an actual Avenger now?” Bucky asks over his coffee. Sam can’t stop grinning.

 

“More like back-up. Don’t worry, my missions are all optional. But man, you should see these wings!” Sam’s up and out of his seat before Bucky can reply, gone to get his phone. “They’re way cooler in real life, but I have some photos here that you can see for now.”

 

“For now?” Bucky asks, not having the heart to tell Sam he saw him in action on the news. “When will I ever see them?”

 

“When you got to the Avenger’s Tower for your arm.” Sam replies easily with a grin, as if Bucky’s scheduled an appointment.

 

“Yeah, okay then.” Bucky scoffs, taking a sip of his coffee.

 

“I’m serious! Stark’s probably gonna call you soon. He needs to do scans and shit, apparently an arm is way harder than a leg because hands and fingers are so complex, but it’s gonna happen, man. Just wait ‘til you see the place.”

 

* * *

 

It’s as amazing as Bucky had imagined- maybe even more so. Sam’s with him- moral support- and as Steve’s living in New York at the moment, he’s already at the tower.

 

“How the fuck did _I_ get a free pass to a Stark-Tech prosthetic?” Bucky whispers to Sam in awe. Sam laughs and claps him on the back.

 

“Dude. I know. _I know._ ”

 

Steve meets them on the other side of the elevator, pulling Sam into a hug and shaking Bucky’s hand. It’s a weird handshake, because it’s too much of Captain America and not enough of Steve. Bucky shrugs off the feeling and follows him to Stark’s lab.

 

“Don’t be shy to tell him to shut up.” Steve warns, opening a door for them and waving them in. Sam hums in agreement.

 

“He’s loud, to say the least.”

 

“Hey, Capsicle! Birdie-Boy! And you must be our One-Armed-Wonder, Sergeant Barnes!” Tony beams as soon as the three of them walk in.

 

“Bucky.” He offers, holding out a hand. Stark, _fucking Iron Man_ , eyes it warily and doesn’t shake it.

 

“Your hair’s prettier in the pictures.” He says, reaching for a piece of equipment Bucky can’t even begin to decipher.

 

“You’re shorter in real life.” Bucky shoots back. Tony meets his eyes, staring at him for one, two, three seconds before breaking into a grin.

 

“I like this one, Cap. He’s a keeper.” Tony laughs, dragging Bucky to a bench. Bucky snorts and rolls his eyes.

 

“Let’s just do this.”

 

Tony Stark (Iron Man????) says he’ll have the final model of Bucky’s arm ready by the end of the week.  

 

Bucky’s half scared, half excited.

 

Steve promises to be there.

 

* * *

 

Some big Avengers thing goes on in Croatia and Sam’s with them. It’s only a week, but it really highlights to Bucky how many of his few friends are superheroes.

 

Even Clint isn’t hanging around the building with his excessive bandages and friendly dog.

* * *

 

Hawkeye gets shot through his right shoulder and Tony will have to do some serious tinkering on his suit, but asides from that everything went well. Bucky thanks his lucky stars that Sam’s okay. He knows Sam wouldn’t have made the Avengers if he wasn’t qualified, he knows Sam can hold his own, but he still worries. It’s just in his nature.

 

* * *

 

 

Clint gets back at the same time as Sam, except Sam goes to back to his place in DC and Clint stumbles into Bucky’s apartment instead of his own by accident.

 

His right shoulder is bandaged.

 

Bucky has a suspicion.

 

“You alright, man?” He asks, kicking Clint’s boot. Clint’s lying on Bucky’s couch, falling in and out of consciousness.

 

“Barnes?” He asks in a groggy voice and unfocused eyes.

 

“Yeah, man. Should you be in a hospital?” Bucky cautions, squatting down so they’re eye level.

 

“Just came from one. I’ll be fine, bro. Katie’s coming.”

 

“You do realise you’re in my room, right? Like, I got no issue with that, but just a PSA.” Bucky tells him. Clint’s eyes are half closed and Bucky’s seen the hearing aids, he knows to repeat himself. So he does, slower this time.

 

“If I had two hands, I’d sign. But I don’t sorry.” He adds with a sigh. Clint just grunts.

 

“Tell Katie I’m good. She’s probably already at mine.”

 

And then he’s asleep.

 

“Katie?” Bucky calls, knocking on Clint’s door. He can hear shuffling from the other side, but that would just be Lucky. “It’s Bucky Barnes, one floor down. Clint’s asleep on my couch, he wanted you to know.”

 

The door swings open fast, catching Bucky by surprise. There’s a girl standing there, narrowed blue eyes and jet black hair and a purple shirt on. She’s just a kid, really.

 

“Katie?”

 

“It’s just _Kate_ to you.” She snaps. “Where’s Clint?”

 

“Come on down.” Bucky says. She follows him, and Lucky follows her.

 

Once she’s seen that Clint is alive but fine, she relaxes a bit.

 

“He’s a mess.” She sighs, but there’s affection in her voice. Lucky climbs onto the couch and nestles in the crook of Clint’s legs.

 

“Coffee?” Bucky offers, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Kate hesitates, an internal debate over in a second.

 

“Please. But I won’t stay for long. I’ll get Clint’s place back in order.before he wakes up.”

 

“Do you look after him?” Bucky asks, because she’s so damn young but still so protective over him.

 

“We look after each other.” She replies, jutting out her chin with defiance. Bucky nods to that; he doesn’t know what else to say.

 

“How do you take your coffee?” Bucky calls from the kitchen once it’s brewed.

 

“Just black. No sugar.” She replies. She’s at the couch, removing Clint’s hearing aids and shoes. Bucky can see now, maybe it’s the lighting, but she’s exhausted. Bags under her eyes, hair hanging limp.

 

“If you want to go back to Clint’s place now you can take the coffee. I’ll get the mug back whenever.” Bucky offers with what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

 

“Thank you. Send him up when he’s conscious.”

 

* * *

 

Clint wakes up about an hour later.

 

“Aw, shoulder.” He groans, stretching out as much as he can on the couch. His hearing aids are still out, so Bucky doesn’t bother talking.

 

“‘Eyy, Lucky. This ain’t our couch.” Clint mumbles, sitting up and wincing at the movement. He spots his hearing aids on the coffee table and puts them back in before standing up and stretching his left arm properly.

 

“Thanks, bro.” Clint yawns, scooping up his shoes.

 

“No worries. I’m glad you’re okay.” Bucky says, coming over to pet Lucky.

 

“Hey, my right arm’s fucked, your left arm’s fucked. We’re matching!” Clint beams. Bucky laughs.

 

“Pal, a bullet through the shoulder isn’t quite the same as a bomb blowing off an entire limb. But nice try.” He doesn’t mean to sound so sour, but that’s always the case, right? Clint doesn’t seem to notice, though.

 

“True, true.” He nods. He’s got everything ready, but he just stays there, standing aimlessly in Bucky’s apartment for a minute.

 

“Are you Hawkeye?” Bucky blurts, and man that was _uncool_. He’s best friends with the damn Falcon, he’s met Captain America and Iron Fucking Man and even the scary-as-hell Black Widow, but suddenly Hawkeye comes in and he’s losing his shit? Good one, Barnes.

 

“What.” Clint says, freezing to the spot with his eyes wide. “How did you…”

 

“You left at the same time Hawkeye turned up in Croatia, returned when he did, with a bullet through the same shoulder.” Bucky supplies, rubbing the back of his neck. Nervous habit.

 

“Futzing hell.” Clint mutters.

 

“Hey, it’s cool man. I won’t tell anyone, promise.” Bucky says, putting his hand on Clint’s uninjured shoulder.

 

“Cap’s mystery boyfriend, right?” Clint laughs, making his way to the door.

 

“Something like that.” Bucky agrees. “But, for the record? You’re still my favourite Avenger.”

 

That takes Clint by surprise and he actually turns back to look right at Bucky.

 

“What? Why? _How_?” He seems so bewildered by it. Bucky frowns slightly. This is Hawkeye, the only fully human Avenger without a suit (excluding Black Widow, right?), holding his own against Gods and aliens and government conspiracies. He’s an A-grade superhero with a heart three sizes too big for the his chest with a building full of misfits he loves more than anything, a fifteen year old kid with nowhere to go living under his protection and a one-eyed dog.

 

Bucky doesn’t know how to say all that.

 

“Bro. You never miss a shot.” He says instead.Clint studies him for a moment, as if he’s made of cellophane; paper thin and transparent.

 

“Thanks, man.” He says slowly, before closing the door behind him.

* * *

 

 

Getting his fancy new prosthetic is easier than he imagined it would be. Steve's away on some mission with Black Widow, but Sam comes with him and Bucky's not fussed.

 

The arm itself is super impressive. It climbs up the stump of Bucky's left arm and attaches to the shoulder for support, but Starks got this super strong super light metal so it doesn't damage Bucky's spine.

 

Bucky doesn't understand how Stark did it, but he can actually move his _fingers_. Like, all five of them. It's amazing.

 

“I know, man. I know.” Sam says when Bucky's eyes start misting over.

 

“ _Sam,_ ” Bucky whispers.

 

“You're welcome.” Stark says obnoxiously loud. Bucky rolls his eyes.

 

“You’re quieter in the pictures.” He says, flipping Stark off with his fancy new metal arm.

 

“Hey! You can’t use my own arm against me like that!” Stark protests, clutching at his heart. “My own child.”

 

“Yeah, well, it’s mine now.” Bucky retorts, but he smiles softly at Stark.

 

“Thank you, Tony. I appreciate it.”

 

“Nah, Barnes. You and Wilson are my guinea pigs. I think I'm gonna start making these on a larger scale, help out more than just you two losers.” Tony shrugs. Trying to play it off like it's no big deal. It is, though. It's a huge deal, Sam can go for runs without chafing, he can join the damn _Avengers_. And Bucky can tie up his hair and open cans and ride his bike again- and he's going to start crying if he doesn't stop thinking about it soon. No one wants that.

 

“Well then,” Bucky says and reaches out to shake Starks hand with his new one. “You're welcome.”

* * *

 

Steve returns from his mission in one piece, Bucky later finds out.  They're at Starbucks- a different one- and Steve beams at him.

 

“Tony made you an arm!” He exclaims, grinning at Bucky but not moving closer.

 

Bucky holds his hand out, twisting it around so Steve can see it better.

 

“I can move the fingers!” Bucky tells him excitedly, wiggling them for proof. Steve laughs and holds out his hand.

 

“Can I?” He asks.

 

“Yeah, of course.” Soft hands wrap around his palm and Bucky squeezes gently.

 

“Can you feel that?” Steve asks, voice hushed in a whisper. Bucky nods, holding Steve’s hand a tad tighter.

 

“It’s so real. It’s so damn real.” He gasps. It’s the first time he’s held someone with it, excluding himself, and it suddenly hits him.

 

“Hey, hey, let’s sit down.” Steve says in a calm voice, leading Bucky to a table off to the side. He vaguely registers they haven’t ordered, but it’s heavily muted by the realisation he has two hands again.

 

“It was gone but now it’s back.” Bucky rasps, struggling to get air into his tightening lungs. Damn, when did breathing become so difficult?

 

“I know, Buck. I know. Breathe with me, yeah? In and out, nice and slow.” Steve takes Bucky’s right hand (good move, the left one’s kinda freaking him out at the moment) and places it over his own steady heartbeat. Bucky can feel his chest rise and fall with each steady breath.

 

“You’re doing good, Buck. You’re doing great.” Steve murmurs, still sandwiching Bucky’s hand between his own and his chest. Bucky nods, his breathing starting to even out.

 

“Sorry.” He mumbles when he's back to himself, chin tucked down and avoiding Steve’s eyes.

 

“Bucky. Look at me.” Steve says, voice still soft and warm. Bucky can’t help but meet his gaze. “It happens to the best of us.”

 

Bucky looks at him properly, this time. He sees the exhaustion in his eyes and Steve must be bone tired for the serum not to fix the bags under his eyes. Bucky may have always thought of him as Steve since they met, but he’s never given too much thought to the fact Steve's been through hell and back, dying in a war only to wake up and be thrown straight back in.

 

Bucky looks at Steve, and that’s what he sees. Not Captain America, not even the friendly acquaintance, just a fellow vet, tired and in dire need of a break.

 

How did Bucky miss this? How did the _world_ miss this?

 

* * *

 

 

Photos turn up on Bucky’s bookmarked blog, intimate details of Steve and Bucky holding hands at a coffee shop, gravitating to a table without ordering, Bucky’s hand over Steve’s heart.

 

He can feel the ghost of the steady beat under his fingertips as he exits the page.

 

* * *

 

“As Captain Rogers’ boyfriend-” An interviewer asks, camera shoved in Bucky’s face, a microphone pressed under his nose.

 

“Jesus.” Bucky mutters, but doesn’t turn away- not yet.

 

“What are your thoughts on him turning down the request to make a speech at the Willard InterContinental Hotel on Independence Day?” What a mouthful.

 

“I think it’s none of your business. He's allowed to say no, he’s his own person before he’s your Captain America.” Bucky turns away now, pissed off at the damn reporter. But no, the asshole grabs Bucky’s arm- his flesh arm- and gives a slight tug.

 

Bucky Barnes is mad.

 

“Aw, c’mon man. Give us a proper answer.”

 

“You want a proper answer? I gave a proper answer. But if that wasn’t fucking clear enough, let me paint it red white and blue for you assholes. I am a veteran. I hate the fourth of July. My best friend is a vet, too, and he's been back for years but it’s still not easier for him.

 

“Steve may have the fancy serum but he’s still a damn person, a damn vet. So I think when he says he doesn’t want to be out in public, making damn speeches as fireworks go off, I think everyone should accept it and leave him the fuck alone.” Bucky’s practically growling, and there’s more than one camera now but he can take it. He’s all riled up with fight pumping through his veins, and he’s alive.

 

“Are you- are you saying Captain America has PTSD?” The reporter asks, as if PTSD is some strange trait to be mocked and scorned. Bucky clenches his fists, the soft mechanical whir emphasising his rage.

 

“I’m saying Steve Rogers deserves a damn break. He grew up sickly, enlisted in World War II, got the serum tested on him. He fought with a group of friends, sacrificed himself for his country, and didn’t even get to die. He entered the war thinking he was either coming home or dying for what he believes in. He got neither. Instead he woke up here, seventy years later, with no one. He’s an Avenger, he’s fighting to protect you and me.  He is a goddamn vet and he deserves a fucking break. How could you possibly think he _doesn’t_ have PTSD?”

 

The reporter shrinks into his collar, mike finally lowering, and Bucky’s actually slightly disappointed he didn’t get a hit in. He crowds up in the guy’s face, pulling him closer with his metal hand. (Because Bucky’s just that much of an ass and this guy deserves it.)

 

“You should be fucking ashamed of yourself.” Bucky spits, and lets go of the man.

 

He doesn’t bother looking back as he walks away.

* * *

 

Of course, the video goes viral instantly. Some people love Bucky for it, some people hate him. Perks of being (mildly) famous, right?

 

There is only two weeks left until the fourth, and Bucky’s terrified. It’ll be his first one since coming home, and he doesn’t exactly have soundproof walls.

 

As if to prove his point, the room fills with the sound of heavy footfall from outside Bucky’s door, and Steve’s calling his name as he knocks.

 

To add to the jumble of nerves he already was, Bucky’s anxious of what Steve will think. Because yeah, Bucky went wild. He laid out Steve’s lifeline for everyone to examine under new light- although to be fair, it’s all on display at the Smithsonian, and taught at schools, and- and the point is, nothing Bucky said can’t be found with minimal effort.

 

So Bucky opens the door, nervous but not remorseful. “Steve.”

 

Steve doesn’t answer him, though, just sweeps him up in a big hug with those massive arms tight around Bucky’s waist, one hand in his hair and the other splayed open on his back.

 

“Thank you.” Steve all but sobs into Bucky’s neck, and Bucky moves his right hand up to cradle Steve’s head.

 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Bucky soothes, pulling Steve inside without breaking the embrace. “I got you, Stevie. I got you.”

 

Steve does start crying now, melted completely in Bucky’s arms as they sink to the couch. Bucky holds him close, rubbing circles on his back and making hushing sounds. Honestly, he feels kind of useless as sobs wrack through Steve’s body, but he doesn’t dare stop, not with the conviction Steve holds him with.

 

“You get it.” Steve chokes out, holding Bucky impossibly tighter. “You _get_ it.”

 

And no, not really. Bucky can’t even begin to imagine going through all that. But he does know what it’s like to feel alone _before_ the war, only to lose it all again and come home even worse off, with no one left and so much anger. So actually, yeah- maybe he does get it.

 

Bucky loses track of time, but it doesn’t matter, he’s got nowhere better to be, can’t imagine something worth doing more. Eventually, though, Steve pulls away with a self-deprecating smile.

 

“Thanks, Buck.” He says, voice raspy and eyes red. Bucky gives him a small smile.

 

“Yeah, Stevie. Want a coffee?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice, thanks.”

 

Steve leaves a couple of hours later, eyes dried and hands steady again. Bucky gives him a parting hug before he steps into the waiting car and is driven away.

 

* * *

 

It all ends up on the internet, everything they do outside of the four walls of the Avengers Tower or Clint’s building.

 

They’re mostly positive, especially on the blogs. People praising Bucky for standing up for himself, his ‘boyfriend’, and other vets.

 

It’s wild, though. People seem to want to ditch Captain America and reveal Steve, but Bucky knows that’s not good, either, because at least at the moment, Steve can hide behind the superhero, he can keep some form of privacy. But if people throw Captain America out the window Steve will be under even more scrutinisation than before.

 

The latest photo on that damn blog is of Steve and Bucky hugging outside Bucky's apartment.

 

Bucky deletes the bookmark.

 

* * *

 

There are people outside his apartment. There are always people outside his apartment, he lives in Brooklyn. But there are people outside the apartment waiting specifically for Bucky, and that’s a first.

 

“Sergeant Barnes!” Someone calls out and Bucky bristles at that. How the _fuck_ do these people know his rank?

 

“Are you on your way to Captain America’s house?” Another voice calls. Bucky turns up his collar and quickens his pace.

 

“Tell Steve we love him!”

 

“We love you too!”

 

“What happened to your arm?”

 

Bucky didn’t sign up for this. He just needs some more toilet paper and deodorant, not a mob of fans and spectators.

 

He ignores them and shoves on past.

 

* * *

 

There are still people outside when Bucky gets back. They’re more subtle, sitting on benches and tying their laces when he approaches the building, but Bucky’s a damn sniper with a keen eye, he can tell they’re watching him.

 

No doubt his morning encounter is up on the internet. A couple of them take photos, but no one tries to talk to him.

 

* * *

 

Bucky doesn’t really realise how bad it’s gotten until Steve comes over. He’s actually coming over for Clint, but no one outside knows the apartment complex is owned by fucking Hawkeye.

 

Bucky hears it before he sees it. It’s just the noise of general commotion, a couple of people cheering, but it’s enough for Bucky to look out the window and down onto the street.

 

There’s a small crowd of people cornering Steve, and he’s trying to be nice about it- posing uncomfortably for photos and signing shirts, but they’re still being dicks. Bucky doesn’t think twice- but since when was that new, right?

 

More people have gathered in the short time it takes Bucky to race down the three flights of stairs and he almost has to physically push people out of the way to get to Steve.

 

“Steve!” He calls, and Steve’s head snaps up, smiling with relief.

 

“Bucky.” He says, and it’s all he can say before Bucky’s got his hand and is dragging Steve back towards the safety of inside.

 

Most of the outside noise drops away once the door is closed but Bucky can still hear some excited chatter and he lets out a groan.

 

“I’m so sorry. They must’ve followed me or something.” Steve says, scratching at the back of his neck.

 

“Nah, man. They’ve been here the past couple of days. I think they just got more excited to see you.” Bucky waves him off, straightening back up.

 

It was meant to be a comment of reassurance, but it has the opposite effect on Steve.

 

“You’ve had people waiting outside your apartment?” Steve asks incredulously. Bucky shrugs.

 

“They mainly just want to take photos of me from a distance. At first they tried to talk to me but I think they’ve dropped it.” He says, starting on the stairs. Steve follows him up.

 

"Jesus, you don’t deserve this.” Steve sighs. Bucky spins on his heel.

 

“What, and you do?” He practically growls. He’s two steps higher than Steve, finally taller than him. Steve seems to shrink in on himself, shoulders hunching and gaze dropping to the floor.

 

“That’s different.” He mutters.

 

“How? How is it different? Yeah, we learn about the great old Captain America as kids, but Steve, you deserve some semblance of privacy too! I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again- you’re a vet, same as me, and you deserve to get to go home.”

 

Steve takes five slow, deep breaths before tilting his chin to look Bucky in the eye. The angle’s awkward- or maybe just unfamiliar- and it makes Steve look so incredibly _different_. He wonders, idly, if this is how he’d have seen Steve if they were friends in the 30’s, before the whole Captain America thing went down.

 

“Drop it, Buck. It’s my fault they’re after you now, too.” Steve says, stubbornness in his voice and ice in his eyes.

 

“Whatever. But it’s not your fault they’re after you.” Bucky shoots back, refusing to back down.

 

“Kinda is.” Steve snorts, rolling his eyes. “I signed up for Project Rebirth, that one’s on me.”

 

“You signed up to fight in the war!” Bucky cries. “Not to be a superhero in the 21st century! There’s a big fucking difference.”

 

“Not to the world.” Steve hisses. “I'm another celebrity, it doesn't matter how I got there.”

 

“People should see you as a person.” Bucky insists. They're fighting in a stairwell about Steve's celebrity status and Bucky would laugh if it wasn't so important.

 

“People should do a lotta things.” Steve points out dryly. “Acknowledging my _issues_ doesn't matter.”

 

“Yes it matters! _You_ matter, you asshole!” Bucky shouts, giving Steve's shoulder a shove. Except he shoved him with his left arm, and he'd forgotten about the stairs behind Steve.

 

Steve starts to fall.

 

But he doesn't, because he's grabbed Bucky's shoulders for balance and Bucky hooks out his other arm to keep Steve levelled. (Well, as levelled as they can be two steps apart.)

 

They're really close.

 

Bucky's arm is wrapped around Steve's waist and Steve has his hands on Bucky's shoulders.

 

“You're not a Goddamn weapon.” Bucky whispers, breath brushing over Steve's face.

 

Steve kisses him.

 

It's short and harsh and not really a kiss- a hot press of his lips against Bucky's, so firm it almost hurts and just as much of an argument as his words- then suddenly Steve's storming past him, taking the stairs two at a time.

 

“It's alright.” He calls over his shoulder, words bouncing off the walls. “I'm used to it.”

 

There's the slam of the door when Steve reaches Clint's level, and Bucky's left alone.  

 

“I know.” He sighs to himself. “That's the problem.”

 

* * *

 

The other problem is that Clint Barton is a famous Avenger with a secret identity.  If Bucky's bringing home fans to stake out the apartment, Clint's _everything_ is at risk of exposure.

 

Bucky can't have that.

 

He can stay with Sam, Bucky figures, just until he finds a new place. It'll be okay.

 

It takes less than two hours for Bucky to pack up his shit but Steve hasn't left the building so Bucky doesn't go up to Clint’s yet, playing Dots on his phone to pass the time.

 

The best thing, Bucky decides, about having his best friend only spending half his time in New York is that the Brooklyn house is empty on the weekends. Bucky even has his own set of keys, he doesn't have to bother Sam in the slightest with staying over.

 

He knows Sam won't mind.

 

 

“What?” Clint says when Bucky tells him he's moving out.

 

It's dark and Steve left the apartment half an hour ago but Bucky wanted to wait just to make sure he'd left for good.

 

“I'm moving out.” Bucky repeats, signing along with his words (perks of having two hands and deaf sister growing up, right?)

 

“I heard you, but I don't understand.” Clint says. Lucky licks Bucky's right hand.

 

“I have to. Sorry, man. We can still be friends?” Bucky tries, running his hand through Lucky's fur.

 

“What do you mean, you have to?” Clint asks with a frown. Bucky's confused too, he didn't realise Clint would care so much.

 

“People think I'm with Steve. They follow me he and wait outside-”

 

“Oh.”

 

“No, that's not it. You're and Avenger, Clint. If they're hanging around they'll see you, put two and two together. I can't risk that. Anyway, it's not like I have nowhere to go. I can stay at Sam’s for as long as it takes.”

 

Clint closes his eyes and rubs his temples.

 

“Wow, this is glaringly familiar.” He mutters, sitting down in a stool at the bench.

 

“Look, bro. Stay here. I walk around New York City and nobody's spotted me yet. You can't just push us away, we care about you and cutting ties with us for our own good isn't just your choice to make.” Clint sits up straighter with that, eyes vaguely unfocused. “It's not just your decision to make, they care too.”

 

“This isn't about me anymore, is it?” Bucky asks, taking the stool next to Clint. “What happened?”

 

“Barnes, you can't push away your friends to protect them. You just end up hurting them. They're your friends because they like you and care about you. They want to help you. Aw hell.”

 

“Yeah, bud. We care about you.” Bucky agrees, unsure if he should put a hand on Clint's back or anything.

 

“Sorry. But please don't move out. Besides, Sam's a superhero too. You'd be risking his identity as much as you'd be risking mine.”

 

He has a point.

 

Bucky unpacks the boxes.

 

* * *

 

“You coming to Stark’s tomorrow?” Sam asks over pizza on Sunday night. He’s usually in DC on Sunday nights but Bucky isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 

“I don’t know? Should I?” He asks, stealing a crust from Sam’s napkin.

 

“Yes. I think it’ll be good.” Sam replies, scrunching up his napkin and throwing it at Bucky.

 

“Okay…” Bucky says. “Why’s that?”

 

“Soundproof walls. If he dims the windows we wouldn’t even be able to tell the fireworks are going off.” Sam explains.

 

“Tomorrow’s the fourth?” Bucky coughs, choking down his pizza. “How on earth did I not realise?”

 

“My guess is relationship drama. The internet’s going crazy right now.” Sam laughs. He flicks through his phone, presumably for photos or gossip on Bucky and Steve.

 

“That must be it.” Bucky agrees in his most sarcastic voice. It’s a shame he’s not actually lying.

 

* * *

 

Black Widow’s the first person Bucky sees when Sam leads him to the Magic Room. It’s not called the Magic Room, officially, but Bucky appreciates its purpose and has dubbed it that in his mind. The room is crazily decorated with the flag, red-white-and-blue everything everywhere. He tries to block it out but that’s almost impossible, it’s so intense. He heads over to the Black Widow.

 

“Barnes.” She says with an elegant smile and sparkling eyes.

 

“I don’t know your name.” Bucky blurts, and damn, that is so _not cool_. Oh well, too late to do anything about it.

 

“Natasha.” She says, and yeah, Bucky can see it.

 

“Nice to properly meet you, Natasha.” He says, unsure if he should sit or not.

 

“Your boy’s over there.” Natasha says, nodding her head towards the giant windows. Her tone isn’t dismissive, just amused. Bucky thanks her and looks over to Steve. He’s standing at the windows, looking out over the darkening city with a flute of champagne in his hand.

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Bucky asks, sidling up beside his friend. They’re friends by now, right?

 

“It’s changed so much.” Steve says in a soft voice, words tip-toeing through the air. Bucky nods, then it hits him. July the 4th. Not just Independance Day, right?

 

“Happy Birthday.” He says, knocking his shoulders into Steve’s. Steve smiles a bit, but it’s small and Bucky doesn’t think it actually counts.

 

“You alright?” He asks, turning from the spectacular view to Steve.

 

“I’m so old.” He sighs, eyes transfixed on the sparkling city.

 

“Yet so handsome. Dermatologists must hate you.” Bucky jokes, voice still low. Steve snorts.

 

“I don’t really want to be here.” Steve admits, eyes flitting to Bucky’s for half a second before returning to the city. “The room- I think Tony’s planning on doing something ludicrous for me, and that’s the last thing I want.”

 

“But this is the safe room.” Bucky protests.

 

“The whole floor is safe. This is just the party room.” Steve tells him with a roll of his shoulders. “I’m going to find somewhere with less people.”

 

Bucky can take a hint, so he nods and swallows his disappointment as Steve starts to leave. He manages three steps before he turns around, frowning.

 

“Are you coming?” He asks, beckoning with his head for Bucky to follow. Bucky feels his face split into a grin.

 

“Lead the way.” Bucky laughs, following Steve out the door. They find a small room with nothing but a couch and fridge.

 

“I don’t even like champagne.” Steve admits, still holding the glass as he takes a seat on the couch.

 

“Sucks to be you.” Bucky says, taking it from him as he sits down.

 

The sun’s completely set now, the only light outside coming from the buildings and streets. The sky’s a clear inky purple and it’s so beautiful. Bucky’s overwhelmed with a love for his city as he takes in the twinkling and flickering life stretched out below them.

 

“My ma died on my birthday.” Steve says quietly. He’s curled into his corner of the couch, socked toes poking out from under his butt. Bucky hadn’t noticed before but Steve’s not wearing shoes and there aren’t any in the room so he mustn’t have had any on all night.

 

Bucky toes off his own shoes and reaches out with one leg, resting his foot against Steve’s. A small smile crosses Steve’s face but it’s sad and Bucky wouldn’t expect anything else.

 

“What a way to turn twenty-one, right? It was just me after that.”

 

Bucky lets him have a moment of silence before speaking.

 

“My parents died when I was eight. And my sister. She was six.” Bucky says, voice cracking at the end of the last sentence. Steve pushes his foot more firmly against Bucky’s. It’s an odd sort of comfort, Bucky realises, but it works. “Orphanages suck.”

 

The fireworks start up now, perfect timing really. They can drop the topic before it (somehow) gets worse. They watch the colours light up the sky in peaceful silence. After a while, Bucky closes his eyes, letting the colours paint his eyelids. There’s a serenity to the night Bucky hasn’t felt since before he shipped out, maybe not even since his parents passed, and he relishes in it.

 

When he opens his eyes, the room’s dark again, faintly lit by the golds of the city. Steve’s looking at him, a fond smile on his face.

 

“I’m sorry I kissed you.” He says, smile fading slowly.

 

“There’s nothing to apologise for.” Bucky dismisses, because really, there isn’t. It fit with their argument, it wasn’t romantic or sexual- it was anger and frustration.

 

“So we’re good?” Steve confirms, one eyebrow slightly arched.

 

“We always were.” Bucky replies easily, knocking their feet together again.

 

* * *

 

There’s an urgent knock on Bucky’s door on Friday morning and Bucky rolls out of bed to get it. It’s way earlier than he’d like but he figures if they’re at his door, it’s pretty urgent.

 

It’s Clint.

 

“I am needed- somewhere. Usually I’d get Kate to but she’s coming- she’s coming down with something. So can you look after Lucky for me? Only for the weekend, maybe a week. He likes you and he’s good, I promise he won’t be too much trouble-”

 

“Yeah, Clint. I can look after him.” Bucky assures him, cutting him off mid-sentence. “We’re gonna have a good time, right, buddy?”

 

Lucky scratches his ear.

 

“Thank you so so much. He loves P-I-Z-Z-A but don’t give it to him every day or he’ll get sick. He loves walks but if you really can’t he’ll be fine to play around the apartment.” Clint says, already making for the stairs.

 

“Get outta here!” Bucky calls. “We’ll be good. Go shoot stuff.”

 

Clint gives him a mock-salute before racing off.

 

* * *

 

“We’re going to the paaaark.” Bucky sing-songs, taking two steps at a time with Lucky at his side. “Before it gets- daaaark.”

 

“Bucky?”

 

Steve’s standing there, in front of him, with amusement written all over his face. “Nice song.”

 

“Thanks, I wrote it myself.” Bucky shoots back, coming to a stop. Lucky’s tail hits his leg as he wags it. “Clint’s away at the moment. Thought you might’ve known that?”

 

“Hawkeye business isn’t always Cap business.” Steve tells him with a sarcastic eye roll. “Although yes, I knew that. That’s actually why I’m here, he asked me to feed Lucky.”

 

As he talks, Steve’s eyes wander down to the dog at Bucky’s feet.

 

“Oh.” He says, looking back up at Bucky.

 

“He came over this morning, Lucky’s got up to a week of sleepovers with me.” Bucky explains, foot tapping on the edge of his step.

 

“Aw, Clint.” Steve whines, spinning in a circle of frustration.

 

“You can come with us if you want.” Bucky offers, continuing on down the staircase.

 

“Yeah, might as well now that I’m this side of town.” Steve sighs, following Bucky down.

 

There are a couple of fans waiting for them but Bucky honestly doesn’t care anymore. They’re keeping their distance, phones out but not actually making contact with him and Steve so he just ignores them.

 

“It really doesn’t bother you?” Steve asks, leaning into Bucky so no one picks up on their conversation. Bucky shrugs.

 

“If they don’t talk to me I hardly notice them. If I’m in a good mood I even enjoy talking to them. And besides, I’m not cruel enough to deny the world more pictures of my beautiful face.” Bucky grins, wiggling his eyebrows. Steve snatches Lucky’s lead off him and pokes out his tongue. Bucky lets out a pathetic whine.

 

“Ha, take that. I’m obviously Clint’s favourite. He chose me first.”

 

“Yeah, but he forgot about you. So really, I’m the winner here.” Bucky points out, giving up his futile attempts of taking the lead back. Steve huffs but can’t think of a worthy comeback so they continue down the street quietly.

 

“What park are we going to?” Steve asks after a while.

 

“Dunno. Figured the HVK’s closest. Lucky likes other dogs, right?” Lucky’s a chill dog, Bucky finds it hard to imagine he won’t like other dogs.

 

“Probably.” Steve shrugs. “Hey, you know what would be weird?”

 

“Literally anything to do with you being a hundred years old?” Bucky guesses.

 

“Rude. I’m 98, actually. No. There was this dog, back when I was a kid, who I would feed whenever I could spare some scraps. It was some sort of lab mix, right? And Lucky was a street dog. Imagine if the two were somehow related.” Steve says, eyes wide with excitement.

 

“Okay, first of all, that _is_ to do with the freaky age thing.” Bucky points out with a laugh. Steve waits for him to continue, but he doesn’t.

 

“Is that it?” He asks. “You can’t just say first of all if you don’t have more than one point!”

 

“Fuckin’ watch me.” Bucky mutters to himself, but screw super-hearing because Steve laughs.

 

“You’re a nerd.” Steve tells him, and although he has no evidence, Bucky can’t really dispute that.

 

“Your face is a… nerd.” He shoots back lamely. Steve laughs louder.

 

The dog park’s not crowded, per se, but it’s definitely not empty. As soon as Lucky catches sight of the other dogs his tail speeds up and he lets out an excited whimper.

 

“Here, you take him.” Steve says, passing the lead over. “I’ll grab us some coffees. What would you like?”

 

“Black, no sugar. Thanks.”

 

“That’s quite a change from caramel macchiato.” Steve grins, walking backwards down the footpath so he can still look at Bucky.

 

“Yeah, that’s my special Starbucks treat.” Bucky tells him, and it sounds a lot worse coming from his mouth than it does from Sam’s.  

 

“You’re ridiculous.” Steve snorts, turning around and disappearing inside a shop.

 

“I’m a cool kind of ridiculous, though, right?” Bucky asks Lucky, opening the gate to the dog park. “Like, the kind of ridiculous that is a fun friend, not the kind that doesn’t eat for three days so I don’t have to go to the supermarket.”

 

Lucky just grins at him, pink tongue hanging out of his mouth.

 

“Alright. Have fun.” Bucky unclips Lucky’s lead and the dog runs off to sniff butts and do other dogs stuff. Bucky takes a seat at a bench to watch.

 

Lucky seems to have made a friend in some grey shaggy thing with paws too big for its body and the whole scene is adorable.

 

“That your dog?” A woman asks, taking a seat next to Bucky on the bench.

 

“Yep, the one with the one eye.” Bucky says with a smile. “His name’s Lucky.”

 

“Cute. Mine’s the grey one, her name is Bella.” The woman hums, nodding slightly. “And I'm Emily.”

 

“Bucky.” He says. Her eyes narrow.

 

“Bucky and Lucky.” She says, and when she says it like that it _does_ sound like he’s making shit up.

 

“Long story.” He says instead, not bothering to explain. They both turn their attention back to the dogs.

 

“They seem to like each other.”

 

“Ha, yeah. Good ol’ Lucky. Real ladies man. Got a million girls chasing him ‘round.” Bucky laughs, watching as Clint’s dog lets Bella pin him on his back.

 

“Taking after you, I presume.” Emily says with a small smirk. Uh-oh, that’s flirting.

 

“You presume wrong.” Bucky tells her, wishing for Steve to come back now.

 

“I find that hard to believe.” She continues, inching closer to Bucky.

 

“It’s the truth.” Bucky says uncomfortably. Fortunately, that’s when Lucky decides to run up to him, covering Bucky’s knee with slobber as he tries to climb into his lap.

 

“Hey there, boy. You got something in your eye.” Bucky coos, wiping a cobweb from his good eye before giving him a quick kiss on the top of his head. Lucky licks his cheek then runs back to the dogs.

 

“How’d he lose the eye?” Emily asks, changing the subject, much to Bucky’s relief.

 

“Lost it in a bet. So maybe he does take after me in some way.” He doesn’t know why he lies, but suddenly he’s grinning like a maniac with his metal arm held out.  

 

“That’s- okay. Cool.” She says, nodding again. “Another long story?”

 

“You bet.” Bucky says.

 

“We could go get a coffee, you could tell me all your long stories.”

 

“Oh, thanks for the offer, but my boyfriend’s just bringing me a coffee now.” Bucky tells her with fake cheer, because if the media’s going to spread rumours about them, he might as well use it to his advantage, right?

 

“Oh.” Emily says, and that’s when Steve _finally_ returns. Lucky runs straight up to him, wagging his tail as Steve greets him, then rushes back to his doggie friends.

 

“Got your Coffee of Bitter Death!” Steve calls, holding one of the take out cups above his head. Bucky feels his fake smile turning real.

 

“Baaaaaabe.” He says in an exaggerated voice, standing up to take it.

 

“Sorry I took so long, the line was killer.” Steve apologises, but Bucky’s willing to bet he’s lying. Maybe it’s the smile, or the look in his eye. He lets it slide- for now.

 

With a slight shift out of the corner of his eye, Bucky realises Emily’s still there, and he’s being very rude.

 

“Oh! Steve, this is Emily. Emily, Steve.” He says, waving between the two. It takes her a moment, but Bucky can see the exact moment it hits her.

 

“Oh my God, you’re Captain America.” She gasps. “I just hit on Captain America’s boyfriend.”

 

Bucky tries not to laugh, he really does, but some things are just too funny. And this is one of them.

 

Luckily, it’s a quiet laugh, muffled by Steve’s talking, and Emily’s hands are covering her face so she doesn’t see him.

 

“I can hardly blame you.” Steve says with an obnoxiously loud whisper. “He’s pretty dashing.”

 

Bucky snorts, because _dashing_ is not a word he’d expected to hear from Steve’s mouth at any time soon.

 

“I’m so sorry. I think I’m going to go now.” Emily announces, slipping away to get Bella.

 

“Your dog lost his eye in a bet.” Steve says once Emily’s left.

 

“How the Hell did you hear _that?_ ” Bucky laughs, sitting back down.

 

“Buck. I’m literally famous for my superpowers. Like, super-hearing.” Steve points out, taking a sip of his coffee.

 

“Yeah, well, shut up.Thanks, Mr Superhero, for rescuing me. She was _flirting.”_

 

“You could’ve straight out said no.” Steve offers, looking way too amused with the whole scenario.

 

“I tried! I said I wasn’t interested in women!” Bucky exclaims, throwing his right hand in the air. The left one’s got the coffee.

 

“In those words?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Well, no. But she should’ve gotten it.” Bucky groans. “It’s okay, I managed to lie in the end.”

 

“You lied the whole way through.” Steve scoffs.

 

“No I didn’t. Only about the boyfriends-with-Captain-America thing.” Bucky frowns.

 

“Oh, really? Did Lucky lose his eye in a bet? Is he your dog? Did you lose your arm in a bet, too?” Steve grins, taking another drink from his coffee. Bucky tests his but burns his tongue. Goddamn superheroes and their magic tongues.

 

Wait-

 

Nevermind.

 

(Bucky’s _not_ going down that road.)

 

“Okay. Maybe that’s not true. But it’s not a lie, either. It’s a fib. There’s a difference.” Bucky huffs, taking the lid off his coffee so it’ll cool faster.

 

“Nerd.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky can’t stop thinking about it.

 

Because if Emily were a guy, or if Bucky wasn’t strictly into men, would this “Captain America’s Boyfriend” thing get in the way of a possible relationship? Not that Bucky’s looking.

 

But.

 

Steve might be.

 

And that’s not fair on him. They need to talk.

 

The thing is, Bucky and Steve haven’t ever planned to meet up, it’s all been coincidental. So Bucky doesn’t have Steve’s number.

 

Clint probably does, though.

 

But Clint’s away and Bucky has his dog. That also means Steve won’t be coming to the building for a while. Bucky lets out a loud groan and Lucky’s head snaps up from the couch.

 

“It’s okay, boy. I’m okay.” Bucky sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Has to be his right, though. The left one catches hair in the plates and rips it out.

 

Bucky’s got Tony’s number but he knows if he asks he’ll never hear the end of it.

 

So that leaves Sam, and honestly, how did Bucky not think of him first?

 

“Sam!” Bucky exclaims when Sam finally picks up the phone. “Please tell me you have Steve’s number.”

 

“Yeah, man. Don’t worry, I already sent him the article.” Sam says, and Bucky can hear the grin through the phone.

 

“What article?” He asks, a sense of deja-vu washing over him.

 

“That woman who asked you out! She talked to someone and it’s all over the internet. Apparently you two are so cute together and so obviously in love.” Sam is way too happy for this,  but Bucky can’t really blame him. He knows if their roles were reversed he’d be poking a lot of fun at Sam.

 

“Ugh, okay. Just send me through Steve’s number.” Bucky sighs, hanging up the phone to Sam's laughter.

 

Sam sends through Steve’s number a minute later with the heart eye emoji. Bucky doesn’t reply to him.

 

_Hey, Steve, it’s Bucky. Sam gave me your number. Are you busy at the moment, I feel like there’s something we should talk about_

 

He presses send and waits. The reply comes in less than a minute.

 

_Should I be worried? On my way._

 

Bucky rereads the text he sent and cringes, it’s the polar opposite of a relaxing text to get.

 

_Everything’s good!! Sorry for a stressful message. See you soon_

 

 

Steve arrives just over an hour later with bagels. Bucky grins and lets him in.

 

“So what’s this important conversation we need to have?” Steve asks, taking a seat on the couch next to Lucky. Bucky sits on the other side of Lucky, snagging a bagel off the coffee table where Steve put them.

 

“The whole Bucky Barnes and Captain America thing.” Bucky tells him bluntly. No point beating around the bush, right?

 

“Are the fans bothering you?” Steve guesses. “I can make a public announcement, if you want. Say nothing ever happened-”

 

“No, no that’s not it at all.” Bucky interrupts. “It’s just- we’re not dating. But everyone thinks we are. Including potential partners, you know?”

 

“Oh.” Steve says, as if it’s the first time he’s thought of it. It probably is. “ _Oh_. You can’t date again until we clear this up.”

 

“Yeah- what? I’m not too fussed, I was more thinking about you. You’re not going to find anyone if the world thinks you’re dating me.”

 

“People think Captain America is dating you.” Steve points out. “Not me. Anyone who knows me knows we’re not dating. I don’t want to date anyone who thinks of me as Captain America, so it’s okay.”

 

“So there is someone, then?” Bucky pushes, hating the way his chest tightens. Steve blushes.

 

“I… No. Not really.” He says, sounding resigned.

 

“But you want there to be.” Bucky guesses.

 

“Can we drop it?” Steve sighs, picking out a bagel for himself. Bucky takes a bite of his own, letting Steve think it over for a minute.

 

“Steve. If you’ve got a crush, there’s no one better to talk about them with than your fake boyfriend, right?” Bucky teases, reaching his foot over Lucky to nudge Steve. “You scared I won’t approve?”

 

“Something like that.” Steve mutters, leaning his head back over the couch so he’s staring straight up at the ceiling.

 

“Wait, seriously?” Bucky asks. “Steve, don’t let _me_ stand in your way of dating. See, this is exactly why we needed to have this conversation.”

 

“No! It’s not like that, it’s… I don’t know how to explain it. You matter to me, Buck. Even if we haven’t known each other for long or hardly see each other, I still feel like we _know_ each other. I’m making a mess of these words.” Steve groans, tilting his head back to normal and taking another bite of his bagel. Probably so he doesn’t have to keep talking.

 

  
“Okay. So asides from wanting me to like them, have you got any other problems? Does this person know you want to date them?” Bucky tries, but damn. Who would’ve ever thought to come to _Bucky_ for dating help? Literally no one but Steve, ever.

 

Steve shakes his head.

 

“Okay. Baby steps, right? Do I know this person?” Steve flushes bright red at that, and Bucky takes it as a yes. Oh God. Could it be-

 

“Sam? Holy shit dude, it’s Sam.” Bucky gasps. At least that explains why Bucky’s approval is so important. And he sort of doesn’t want to give it to them. The idea of Steve with anyone stirs a bitter feeling inside Bucky, but Steve with Bucky’s best friend?

 

“It’s not Sam.” Steve laughs.

 

“Well it’s definitely not Clint or Tony. And I didn’t get those kinda vibes from Natasha? I literally know nobody else.” Bucky says. Steve shoots him a look and the penny doesn’t just drop, it clatters to the ground and echoes around Bucky’s apartment.

 

“Oh my God, it’s me. You want to date me for real now.” Bucky realises, hand tightening in Lucky’s fur. “It is me, right?”

 

“Yeah, Buck.” Steve sounds resigned and it breaks Bucky’s heart. “It’s you.”

 

“Holy shit.” Bucky grins. “How do you like me more than Sam, though? Sam’s the best possible person ever.”

 

“Sam sees me as an army captain. It’s not Captain America, but it’s still not Steve.” Steve shrugs, still not meeting Bucky’s eyes.

 

“Oh yeah, I get what you mean. Even I’m Sergeant Barnes to him.” Bucky agrees.

 

“Now that you know this, do you want me to clear up the rumours?” Steve offers, standing up. Bucky looks at him in confusion.

 

“What? Of course not. That’s a stupid idea, counter-productive as shit.”

 

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, eyes narrowing. And yeah, Bucky’s been dragging this out, but he’s gonna clear it up. Right now.

 

“I mean, if you revoke the rumours they’re only going to start up again as soon as someone sees us on a real date.”

 

Steve’s eyes widen and his jaw drops.

 

“You didn’t honestly think I wouldn’t want to date you, Steve?” Bucky smiles, holding out his hands so Steve can pull him to his feet. Steve takes his hands and they stand chest to chest, looking at each other.

 

Bucky grins at him before saying, “I’m gonna date the _shit_ outta you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments nourish my soul


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